Please read this note! Seriously, just do it! It helps explain what the heck is going on!

So, I figured I should give a little preface to this story since it's kinda a weird one. You see, a friend and I were working on an AU for RWBY where there was a time before Grimm, the world would be much like our own with the only difference being that semblances still existed, but not everyone had them. And we would have characters from that time who remember what the world had been like before "The Fall" as we came to call it. During "The Fall" the world as they had known would have fallen to ruin because no one would have been prepared for the Grimm, who multiplied far too quickly for them to be beaten and only people who had semblances managed to survive. The world still fell to ruin but patches of humanity survived and discovered dust, and the story continues as normal from there.

So, me being me, thought it would be fun to delve into how Grimm were created, plus I always wanted to try and write a fairy tale of some kind. And I figured that they were probably created from negativity since that's what they seem to be attracted to in the series. So what if someone's semblance was to create beings from negative emotions? And that's how this was written. Of course after I finished writing it we decided that we would cancel our AU. But then I realized, I never described the main character. It could have easily been Salem I was writing about. And so it became an idea for a heavily head cannoned backstory for Salem. But please keep this in mind while reading it.

I never intended to post it, but after my friend told (ordered) me to upload it I couldn't really tell her no. So enjoy... or not, s'up to you.

Disclaimer: Monty help us all if I owned RWBY.

Word Count: 1604

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Mother Grimm

Long ago, when the world we know was nothing more than a child's fantasy there lived a young girl. She was the cheery sort, the kind who always tried to see the silver lining and wore a brilliant smile. But this smile and idealistic view hid a jealous soul. For she lived in a world where gods lived among men and everyone she knew had some sort of power. Some could control thunder, some could find anything at will, some could manipulate time and space at will, and she… she was normal; an ordinary child in an extraordinary world. She had no power of her own, only a pendant that she had been given as a gift when she turned seven.

But she hid her jealousy away, attempting each day to tell herself that it was for the best. After all, with her necklace she could control the wind. Sure the power wasn't her own and it came from the stone in her pendant, and all those she cared about had their abilities naturally, all the while she could do nothing without her necklace. Even then, she could hardly control it at times; wind moves and flows and does what it desires. It does not bend to the will of mankind easy, nonetheless the will of a young child. But it was still something, and something was better than nothing.

Day in and day out she would watch those she cared about learn to manipulate and master their talents with a sense of awe. They were brilliant, each and every one of them, and she… she simply wasn't. Without her necklace, without a stone, she was nothing. They were strong, and she was weak. If anything, it felt wrong to the girl, as though what she did was a complete and total mockery of everything those she loved could do. But, though it grew harder each day, she would wear that same smile and try not to let any of these negative thoughts show. Though, in truth, the way the wind slowly grew chaotic around her, manifested her inner turmoil. No one said anything to her about it however. Only one person had even mentioned it at all.

Her jealousy and doubt were getting the better of her, and she could tell. She did need to talk to them, but what could she possibly say? The truth? She would have to tell them that she was no better than a con artist. She would have to explain the reason behind her jealousy after all. Would they even want to be around her if they knew she was a phony? That was all she was, and she knew it. Would they even care? She couldn't see them outright rejecting her or telling her to leave because of it. But, more importantly, what if she hurt them? What if she couldn't regain at least some control over her gift and she sent them flying away? If she hurt them… no. She refused to let it come to that. She would rather die before she let it come too that. But how could she fix it?

And slowly, ever so slowly, she retreated from the rest. But she was okay with that because it meant she could deal with the issue on her own. The girl hardly even noticed that she was staying in her room more often than usual. Not once did she even think that she was pushing everyone and everything she once loved away. Not once did she notice that she was alone. Not once did she realize that her bedroom had become her world. It was her fortress and no one could break through. Here she was safe to let her feelings run wild and let the wind rip through and toss everything she owned around her and onto the floor or into the walls. Here no one could be hurt by it. So long as they were safe and so long as she couldn't control herself she would stay here in this safe house. It was for the best.

The girl kept telling herself this, day in and day out. It was for the best that she was alone here. It was for the best that she was in here learning to strengthen her mental walls so her gift wouldn't go out of whack. And though she kept telling herself this, the loneliness grew and so did her envy. The others didn't have to lock themselves away. They didn't have to hide. Their power didn't run rampant. Why did she have to be so different? Why couldn't she have just been born with a power like everyone else she cared about? "At least you have something," she would whisper whenever those thoughts came to play. "At least you have something." And she would grip her necklace in her hand and smile at the minimal comfort it brought. Comfort that would never be able to match the warm feeling she would get when she was surrounded by those she loved.

As time marched on and days turned into months and months turned into years the pain of solitude soon overwhelmed her. It blocked out her sorrow, her insecurity, her envy and her joy. She knew nothing but the howling of the wind and the biting sting of emptiness. There was nothing here. She was nothing. Only one thing reminded her that she was real and that there was something else besides her bastille. Every now and again there would be a knock-knock-knock on her door that she always let go unanswered. What if it was only in her head and no one was out there? She wouldn't be able to stand that. Besides, the door was locked, wasn't it? That was why she never left, right? That was the reason why no one ever came in. Because they couldn't open the door just like she couldn't. That had to be the reason.

The girl began forgetting; all her memories fell into the silence that was her world. The void that was her reality consumed any and all thoughts because nothing mattered here. Why was she here? Why was she alone? What did she do wrong to deserve this sort of isolation? Where was her family? Did she even have a family? Who was it that kept knock-knock-knocking on her door? Why wouldn't they let her out? Could they let her out? Could she get out herself? Why did she even care in the first place? Surely she was here for some reason, whatever that reason may be. What did it matter anyway? Someone would let her out eventually, right? But only the wind responded with a sigh and continued blowing. And time pushed on.

But one day she dared to try and open the door, and it moved with ease.

It had been unlocked the entire time. The door to her cell had been unlocked the whole time and no one had tried to come in. No one had tried to open it and talk to her. No one had tried to let her know she wasn't so terribly alone. No one had tried to convince her to leave. No one came. And no one had cared. Not even the one person who kept knock-knock-knocking had tried. Or perhaps that had been in her head after all.

Tears formed in her eyes and began to roll down her face. As the wind whipped around her she sobbed in despair, "Why? What did I do to deserve this?!" For she truly couldn't remember that she had chosen to be alone of her own accord. She couldn't remember that she had done it to keep those she loved safe. She couldn't even remember the people she had cared about in the first place. In her sorrow she never noticed the shadows that formed around her, growing and morphing into beasts. She hardly even noticed how she shivered from their icy and somber aura. Nor did she notice how they ignored her and left.

By the time she noticed their existence it was too late. They were already running rampant and destroying everything in sight. Each time as one left, ten more grew and took its place. The world was burning around her and the sky turned red. The wind blew and the sound of screams was lost in the unrelenting gale. Nothing could stop them. And she could only guess where they were coming from. This was her power, the one she had been born with. And to her horror she only created more. More dark monsters spawned, each as black as midnight with ruby eyes, and each more terrible than the last.

New species began to form wolves, bears, scorpions, griffons, dragons and more. Some even grew bone-like armor over their skin to help keep them safe. She couldn't stop creating them, and the monsters' ranks grew larger and larger each day. And all she could do in turn is watch as the world she had likely loved at one point fell to ruin around her. The girl, left alone with only the creatures for company, called them Grimm. For that is all they were; grim thoughts and feelings made real by a power she never even knew she had. By the time she finally could stop creating them, it was far too late. Not a single building was left standing and not a soul remained besides her. The world that she must have known before the emptiness was gone forever.

And just like before, she was left alone in a private hell of her own creation.